


and i'm sixteen

by sydi_eunha



Category: NU'EST
Genre: Home, M/M, Poverty, aaron speaks korean, charity - Freeform, minki tops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 13:50:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydi_eunha/pseuds/sydi_eunha





	1. one

The marketplace is small, but brimming with life and noise. Tourists stroll about, staring in fascination at mundane things, while old ladies push carts of food and say the same words over and over.

_Bacon toast, bacon toast, bacon toast._

Or _tteok bokki, only a thousand won a serving!_

My mother made it clear before we came back that she would not be babying us this time. This is our country, and we ought to explore it ourselves. The last time we came back, I was ten.

Now, I'm sixteen. Cue the dramatic Samuel song.

"By the way, my naaaaame is . . . Aaron, and I'm sixteen," I mentally sing to myself, before shaking my head in disgust. _No._

At that moment, an old lady chooses to run over my foot with her cart of bean paste buns. I let out a pained shout, but she just walks past me, unbothered despite the various passerby that turn to witness my pain.

"Goddammit."

Oh, this was Korea, alright.


	2. two

At the end of the marketplace is a bridge that leads over a shallow stream. I walk across the bridge, which is long and wooden. The day is cloudy, and I can smell rain in air. But for some reason, I make no effort to run from it.

When it finally begins to pour, I turn and walk back slowly. Someone once told me that if you run through the rain, you get more wet. I highly doubt that it's true, but it doesn't matter, because that's not why I'm walking slowly right now. 

In fact, I don't know why I'm walking so slowly.

When I get back to the marketplace, it is nearly empty. I stare at the sign of a shop, trying to read it. The letters jumbled together and created a mess in my head. Once I read the next word, I would forget what the previous word is. It makes me sentimental, it makes me frustrated.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

A woman shouts at me, her eyes widened. She runs through the rain and takes my wrist, dragging me until the safe envelope of the indoors welcomes me.

"Are you trying to get jeoche onjeung?"

I have no idea what that is. But I shake my head anyways.

She hands me a towel. "Dry your hair," she says. "Tell me your name."

It's straightforward. It's not a question. Not _what is your name._  She says, _Tell me._

"Aaron," I say.

She scrunches her eyebrows at the sound of my very American name, but doesn't say anything.

My stomach rumbles. The woman gives me a displeased look at the sound, before sighing and saying, "Sit down."

I do as she says, and a minute later, she returns with a bowl of rice, a container of piping hot seaweed and pumpkin soup, and a plate of several side dishes.

"Eat," she tells me.

I stare at her in disbelief, but my stomach urges me to eat. I pick up the chopsticks and take a clump of rice from the top of the mound of rice, before putting it in my mouth.

She stares at me.

"Thank you," I say. 

"Sit next to the heater. I'll send out my son to keep you company."

She turns and walks away.

"Wait."

She stops. Turns around again.

"What is _your_ name?"

She's silent for a moment, before she says, "Just call me Mama Choi."

She leaves. I look at the certificate on the wall.

 

CHOI YUNA.

 

I shrug and eat.

"Hi," a melodious voice says.

I look up and stop breathing.


	3. three

He's wearing this black hoodie and blue whitewashed jeans. It somehow makes him look more sophisticated than me, even if I'm the one wearing a button up. Black hair falls over, brooding, serious eyes. Pink lips like delicate stained glass. 

He's a porcelain doll. _He's going to break,_ I think.

"Choi Minki," he says.

"I don't speak much Korean, if I'll be honest."

He stares at me expressionlessly, vaguely nodding at me once.

Then, he begins to sing.

_너와 나 세상 끝 이 곳에서_   
_우리의 영원에 살고있어_

_[You and me, at the end of the world._   
_We’re living in our eternity.]_

He stops for a moment, and smiles, but only faintly. Then he continues.

_내가 너를 바라보고 네가 날 볼 때면_   
_절벽에서 날 수 있을 만큼_   
_강한 힘의 용기를 줘_

_[When I look at you and when you look at me._   
_You give me such strength and courage._   
_That I feel like I could fly off this cliff.]_

And I begin to understand. I nod at him, a smile making its way onto my own lips. I finish the food, and he immediately begins to take the dishes from me. I open my mouth to protest, but he turns and just looks at me.

I close my mouth and watch as he disappears into the kitchen, only to appear a moment later with no dishes in his pale hands. He nods his head at a staircase leading upstairs. I'm hesitant, but thunder booms and I give in.


End file.
